


joy of man's desire

by Al_D_Baran



Series: Dark Voltron Fics [9]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Coma, Dubious Consent, Fucked Up, Hallucinations, Hospitals, Inspired from End Of Evangelion, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Masturbation, Pining Lance (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Somnophilia, Unreliable Narrator, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 04:43:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14742212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Al_D_Baran/pseuds/Al_D_Baran
Summary: "Lance feels like he’s been steadily growing more and more fucked in the head in the last few days. Ever since Keith took that blast for him. He sways between hating him and loving him, each day. Truth be told – Lance has been feeling this way long before Keith saved him."--Or: That One Scene in End of Evangelion where Shinji jerks it to Asuka's comatose body but with Keith and Lance and a worried Shiro.





	joy of man's desire

**Author's Note:**

> it's ya gal al tainting the klance tag cause why should i keep my evil ways to the sheith tag

 

 

> “Love is a place you'll never see  
>  Passing you like a summer breeze  
>  You feel life has no other reason to be  
>  You can wait a million years and find  
>  That heavens too far away from you  
>  Love's just a thing others do ”
> 
> — _Everything You've Ever Dreamed_ , Arianne

 

 

 

Catching Shiro off-guard is a sign Lance should buy a lottery ticket.

Does lottery even exist on this alien planet? Its inhabitants are humanoid enough that he can hope so. Maybe there’s even the equivalent of a McDonald’s here. A space McDonald’s. Just the thought of a Big Mac makes his stomach rumbles in nostalgia.

Shiro sleeps next to the window, bathed in the soft light of the planet’s suns, features accentuated by the half-closed blinders. If he didn’t look so pale and exhausted, with deep, dark circles under his eyes, Lance thinks he would be stunning. Much like Shiro always is.

The slow beeps of the EKG, the whispering noises of the oxygen tanks, the murmur of the nurses and patients outside.

This room feels like time isn’t following its normal course here. Lance’s eyes fall to Keith, curled into a tight ball, sleeping as if nothing is happening. The hospital gown opened slightly during the day, revealing some of the porcelain skin of his back. The mark of the deep scar left by the Trials catches his eyes. A spot on a perfect canvas, Lance can’t help but think.

Keith is otherwise unmarred but for a few little melanin spots, forming tiny constellations across his back. The blanket slid just a bit too, only half-hiding his legs. During the time Keith was gone with the Blade, his hair grew to his clavicles, falling all around him, hiding his face. Lance looks up to Shiro, to the way his bigger hand is still holding Keith’s, fingers laced in a way so intimate the boy doesn’t think Shiro would do this if he’d be aware someone’s watching them.

He feels a pinch of jealousy, walking closer to the bedside. Keith is a mess of wires and IV drips, peaceful. He seems to have moved closer to Shiro’s hand during his sleep, so calm and silent that if he didn’t catch the slow filling and expiration of his breaths, Lance might have believed that he was dead.

Shiro wakes slowly, blinking at the light that pours into his eyes. He wipes them from his free palm, pressing his fingers to them, turning to Keith, as if expecting him to be awake. Shiro’s eyes trail from the still lax fingers between his own to Keith’s face, the thread of hope that lead him there breaking when he notices no changes.

He doesn’t fail to notice Lance, right hand squeezing the arm of the uncomfortable chair he’s slouching in, readying to propel himself up to face any dangers. Shiro only marginally relaxes when he recognises his comrade, pulling his hand away from Keith’s, acting as if Lance didn’t witness such an intimate hold.

Shiro clears his throat. Lance stands at attention, straight like a pole. “How long have you been there?” he rubs his eyes again, obviously exhausted. Shiro insisted to stay with Keith, at all times, somehow managing to convince the alien physicians that it’s for the best that he stays with their comatose friend until he wakes up. Said something about how a familiar face would keep him from panicking. Lance doesn’t know how much is jest and how much is honest – Shiro doesn’t want to leave Keith’s side and he seems ready to use any excuses to get what he wants.

“Just a minute,” Lance says, relaxing when Shiro leaves the wooden rocking chair he’s been using for the last weeks. “Just wanted to check up on you guys. Do you need… to use the bathroom?”

Shiro takes a long look at Keith. He doesn’t want to leave. Lance understands. Shiro and Keith are so close, have always been so fusional, like they’re part of the same entity, more than with Voltron.

“Yeah…” Shiro eventually admits, running a hand through his messy, greasy hair. “I should wash. And brush my teeth, I… it’ll take just… ten minutes?”

Ten minutes. Lance nods, even though he knows Shiro’s not really speaking to him. He’s notifying himself of the time he’ll have to spend apart from Keith, of the time he can’t watch over him, protect him.

He speaks, still, hopeful, “I can stay with him if you want?”

Shiro’s hesitation is nearly insulting. Lance wants to get it. He wants to understand. What makes them so close? What is it in Keith that has Shiro so smitten? Lance is jealous. He’s always been a jealous person. He wishes Shiro would look at him with the pride he reserves for Keith.

“It’ll just be ten minutes,” Lance adds, using Shiro’s words against him. Ten minutes is nothing. They’ve been here for two weeks already. Two impressively long, dreadful weeks. Shiro’s not left Keith since then, not for a minute. “It’s been a while. You really need to get washed. That’ll be good for you – like, refreshing. You’re not alone, y’know? We’re all there. For Keith. For you.”

Lance truly believes what he’s saying. As much as he jealousies Shiro prioritizing Keith, he wants to be there for Keith. For Shiro. He doesn’t want to be pushed to the side, to feel as if he’s not part of their group.

Shiro needs a moment to think. He smells himself, grimacing at his own grime.

“Alright.” Shiro picks his jacket, throwing it over his arm while he looks at Keith’s sleeping form, running his fingers across the boy’s shoulders. “I’ll be right back,” he says, to Keith, as if he can hear, the tone itself an unspoken pet name. Shiro takes too long to stop touching, much too long for the _we’re just friends, really, guys_ they insist on serving to anyone who asks. “I trust you, Lance. Just… call if anything happens, okay?”

Lance stays alone in front of the silent bed as Shiro leaves, rushing out the room with promises of being done as quickly as he can.

It’s… more awkward than Lance expected it to be. Without Shiro’s gentle snores, he notices the rasps in Keith’s breathing. There’s a tube, coming to his stomach, probably to pump it with food. It’s so silent he swears he can hear the IV drips’ slow _plop plops_ as he stares. Outside, a nurse laughs, and her friend follows.

Lance’s bitterness comes back.

“Why’d you do that?” the boy croaks, gripping Keith’s thinned shoulder. Keith’s always been bony but now he can feel the poke of it under the paper-thin gown. “Why’d you – jump like that…”

Lance remembers the explosions, the crashing of the ship. Everything had been falling apart around them, the mission not failed nor compromised yet, but their lives were on the line. It was… Keith’s fault, really. Keith hadn’t told him when to detonate the bomb. Or well – he had. But he had been unclear. Shiro had told Keith he needed to take the lead, he needed to guide them through the maze of the ship.

If Keith couldn’t lead him right, then it was Keith’s fault he was in this state.

The bomb had been too close. There were too many Galra grunts, too much danger.

He – he was getting surrounded.

“Why’d you detonate that bomb, Keith?” Lance spit with rage, jostling the other boy as his voice tightened. “Why’d you do that? You were – you were in the blast range, you knew…”

Internal damage, bleeding in the skull.

Lucky to be still be in one piece.

Broken ribs, fractured hips.

“You knew this would kill you,” Lance understands, digging his fingertips in Keith’s arm as he keeps shaking him, harder, more. “How d’you think I’d live with that, uh? How’d you think I’d deal with you fucking dying cause I was an idiot, uh, Keith?”

Lance starts sobbing, unable to move for long, long seconds.

Just thinking of Shiro, picking Keith up, with his helmet shattering and falling apart from the movement, revealing Keith’s face, bruised. The bottom of it was daubed with blood, leaking from his still intact, regal nose. Shiro kneeled like a pieta, holding Keith to his chest like he was a fragile, wounded kitten, like he was cradling the world.

“Why do you always get this, uh?” Lance grunts, starting again, with more anguish and force. “You always – you get… so much more. Why isn’t he looking at me like that? Do I gotta fucking die to get any praises?”

With one last, harder pull, Keith’s limp body turns. Electrodes pull off his chest, flying off as the gown slips open. Lance’s hand jumps off Keith’s body, as if he’s been shocked from the contact. Keith’s skin is exposed, pale and milky, hairless, as perfect as skin can be. He almost looks like a boy, small and skinny.

There’s the unmistakable swell of breasts on his chest, small, firm, perky. The change in temperate made his nipples harden, the delicate pink flushing just a little darker. Lance reaches out to touch, swallowing hard. It’s been so long since he’s touched something soft. His hands are large compared to Keith’s, he’s always assumed that it’s because Keith looks like he’s been underfed as a kid. He’s never cared enough to prob about his intimacy, about whatever does or does not dangle down there.

His eyes trail lower, to the blanket that hangs to Keith’s left knee. The spread open legs give him a view of his pale briefs. There’s more cables running along Keith’s thigh, probably a catheter. Another IV in the inside of his ankle.

Lance shakes, staring at the hand over Keith’s tit. He shouldn’t be doing this – the thought alone makes him a little sick, even when he keeps moving his palm, pinching the discovered nipple. It’s been so long. He’s not sure why he hardens, pitiful, fast. Keith’s sleeping, vulnerable visage awakes something dark inside of him.

Lance thinks of that body underneath his. No – that’s too much.

His mind goes back to his erection. Shamefully, Lance looks behind. No one. He thinks of locking the door before he comes back to the bed, closing the blind. In the rust and fire colours of the darkness, Keith’s features look even softer. Lance unhooks his belt, only pulling his cock out of his pants to start touching himself.

“I’m going to Hell,” he whispers under his breath, rubbing his palm over his head, before wrapping his fingers along his shaft.

Lance feels like he’s been steadily growing more and more fucked in the head. Ever since Keith took that blast for him. He sways between hating him and loving him, each day, each hour. Truth be told – Lance has been feeling this way long before Keith saved him.

Lance moans, opening his eyes to look at Keith’s pretty face. He needs to close his eyes again, a sensation of guilt washing over him. Fuck. He’s so fucked. So fucked up. Lance can’t believe he’s doing this, jerking himself to Keith’s comatose body, to the boy who’s saved him. This is… clearly not legal. Clearly amoral. Yet, he can’t stop.

“Oh, Lance…” Keith says, as if scolding him.

Lance gasps. When he opens his eyes, Keith is right there, staring at him with half-lidded, pretty eyes. He kneels in front of him, crawling to where the other boy’s hands are shoved into his pants. “I, I,” Lance stutters, unable to find anything to say.

“You wanted me to notice you, didn’t you?” Keith croons, suave and sensual. Lance didn’t think he could find such a deep, manly voice to be so sexy. It makes shivers run up his back. Lance nods, timid, shameful. “That’s why you kept… being so mean to me.”

Keith giggles. It’s cute, adorable. His hands pull Lance’s off his cock, replacing them with his. “I can see the effect I have on you. How long were you going to hide that you like me?”

“I, I don’t know, ah…” Never, Lance thinks to himself. There was just no way that Keith could like him back. His eyes close again. Keith’s warm, spongy tongue licks at the head of his cock, his plump lips wrap around it to suck. It’s innocent. Lance can’t help but to thrust his hips forward.

Keith jerks him off sloppily, slobbering all over his prick. Lance moves a hand to his hair, caresses it. It’s soft, just like strands of silk. Lance never noticed just how deeply dark it was, midnight black, reflecting the dim light. Lance wonders if there’s a slightly Prussian blue quality to it because of Keith’s Galra genes. Maybe that’s why his eyes are such a dark amethyst.

“I think I know why you never said a thing,” Keith purrs. Lance looks to him, startled by Keith’s mocking tone. He sits like a lazy cat, slowly stroking him. “You’re a coward.”

Lance grunts.

“M’not, I just, I just.”

“Oh, yes, you are. You’re scared of rejection, aren’t you? So scared you try to push me away with all those insults.” Keith sighs, as if it’s endearing. As if he’s not insulting him, just how he accuses him of doing so.

Keith carries on, hand going faster and faster on his prick, “But there’s more. Shiro’s your rival. And you’re… jealous of him. Because I always look at him like he’s the sun. I always act like he’s the only person in the world – I mean, who wouldn’t look at him this way? He’s tall, handsome, muscular, charming and he’s just so nice, too.”

“If I – If I wanted to, I would say it,” Lance counters pitifully, rocking into Keith’s palm.

“No, you wouldn’t. You’re too scared. You can see it – Shiro likes me, I like Shiro. How could you compete with someone like that?”

Keith’s right. Lance squeaks, gripping his shoulder.

“Shut, shut up.”

Keith laughs, mocking, cruel. It’s unlike him. Lance opens his eyes to look at Keith’s nasty smirk, something he’s never seen on him.

“If you had a chance, do you think you’d be like this? Jerking it off to my comatose body? Do you think I’d like someone who enjoys my sleeping body like this? You’re a creep, Lance. And a tool.” Keith moves a hand to his ass to keep him from leaving, quickening his pace. Lance pushes on him, trying to get away, to no avail. “What a creep. You were right to think I’d never love a coward like you.”

Lance comes with a gasp of surprise. It’s a pitiful orgasm, nearly dry, that nonetheless leaves him physically and emotionally drained. His hand is covered in come, dripping over his fingers. His stomach churns at the view, disgust leaving a taste of bile in his throat.

Lance dares a look to the bed. Keith is still asleep, even looks a little cold from his undressed state, having curled slightly over himself, frowning.

“I’m so fucked up,” Lance whispers, staring at Keith’s innocent face.

 

 

 

“Sorry for taking so long,” Shiro says sheepishly as he enters the room, walking to the blinds to open them.

Lance smiles, contrite. He feels like Shiro can smell his crime on his skin. Like the man will see right through his façade.

Shiro looks at Keith, as if to inspect him. Lance put everything back in place as well as he could, the stickers, his gown, the blanket. Brushing Keith’s skin felt like he was tempted by the Devil himself. Maybe he needs to sleep, too. Hunk’s been telling him he looks like he’s not sleeping at all, recently. Frankly, Lance can’t remember the last time he closed his eyes and didn’t hear the sound of Keith’s body hitting the wall next to him, his ears ringing from the detonation.

He looks so peaceful, now.

“Thank you, Lance,” Shiro tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder, a fond smile on his face. Lance pulls his shoulder away, itching it with an awkward smile. “I know it’s… hard to see him like this. But… thank you. I really needed that shower.”

It sure is hard. Lance can’t breathe anymore.

“I’ll, um. I’ll come back tomorrow. Glad to have been of help. Just… look over him?”

Shiro nods. “Yes, of course. You’re always welcome here. I knew I could trust you.”

_Don’t._

He sits back where he did in the morning, scooting closer to take Keith’s hand in his, the flesh one, as always. When he kisses his knuckles, Lance must look away. Shiro looks at Keith like he’s the Sun. Like he’s the only one in the world.

Keith is right.

He’s never going to stand a chance.

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments are better than kudos.


End file.
